Countdown
by ICanFlyHigher
Summary: It's Halloween! In honor of the best holiday there is, I'm going to post a story every night until Halloween. Enjoy!
1. Ghost

**It's Halloween! In honor of the best holiday there is, I'm going to post a new story every night until Halloween. Today's theme was ghost, so have some undead creeper!Roderich.**

**Warning: Character death, language, and a very touchy-feely ghost.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia in any way shape of form.**

**Edit: Holy cow there was a lot of spelling errors! Sorry!**

Elizabeta Héderváry had been having a wonderful dream when her cell phone started ringing. The Hungarian silently cursed the makers of the telephone as she rolled out of bed and dragged herself to her dresser. Elizabeta quickly unplugged her phone and held it to her ear with one hand, massaging her temple with the other.

"What."

"Elizabeta! I think I finally found one!" Elizabeta groaned.

"Alexander, do you have _any _idea what time it is?"

"It's 3:23." He said, sounding far too happy. Why wasn't he in bed, like any sane person? Elizabeta reminded herself that Alexander wasn't sane; he was an annoying real estate agent who didn't seem to need any sleep.

"Exactly, and unlike you, I am not nocturnal." She mumbled, stifling a yawn.

"Whatever, I found a house! You might actually like this one!" Elizabeta suddenly forgot her growing annoyance with Alexander.

"Really? This is great! Give me the address and I'll drive by to check it out later." She said, grabbing the nearest pen and pulling off its cap with her teeth. She scrawled the address down on her arm.

"I'll be there around noon." She said, placing the pen back on her dresser.

"One more thing. If you ever call me this early again, I won't think twice about wringing your scrawny neck."

Alexander chuckled. "And I'll come back from the dead and cut off your toes. See you at noon."

_( )_

Elizabeta's mind was buzzing with ideas the entire drive to the new house. Could this one really be as good as Alexander said it was? Elizabeta prayed it was.

About a year and a half ago, Elizabeta grandfather died and left her his fortune. The Hungarian had been ecstatic (she hardly even knew her Grandfather) and quickly decided to sell her house and find a new one. She was tired of boring homes that all looked the same. She wanted some new, something different, and most importantly, something haunted.

Elizabeta and her agent, Feliks, traveled all over looking for the perfect house. Finally, after a few months of searching, Feliks threw up his hands, claiming that she wasn't even trying to find a house and recommended Alexander Vladimir as a replacement.

Elizabeta and Alexander had hated each other from the moment they shook hands, but Alexander was a surprisingly perfect agent for Elizabeta. He had an unhealthy interest in the supernatural. He was almost as good at sniffing out fake or unsatisfactory haunted houses as Elizabeta.

Elizabeta grinned as she pulled into the house's long gravel driveway. It wasn't a house- it was a manor!

The manor was three stories tall and made of handsome black bricks. Large, colorful gardens bordered the house, filled with white Edelweiss and Alpine Roses. The pathway to the house was surrounded by weeping willows that shuddered in the strong wind. A storm was coming, Elizabeta could smell it.

Elizabeta climbed out of her car and quickly walked to the door of the manor. Alexander sat on the front steps with his nose in a small paperback book. The wind whipped his strawberry blond curls across his face and Elizabeta wonder how he could read with so much hair in his eyes.

Deciding that it wasn't worth pondering, she kicked him over. Alexander tumbled to the ground, landing painfully on his side.

"What the hell was that for?!" Alexander yelled, pulling his self off the ground and dusting himself off.

"That's for waking me up last night. Get over it you big sissy, I didn't kick you that hard." Elizabeta said, glaring at Alexander. "Now are you going to show me the house or not?"

"Aren't you just the vision of patience," Alexander mumbled. He rolled his eyes and stuck his book into his jacket pocket. "Just let me unlock the door."

He pulled the house key out of another pocket (Alexander wore pockets like they were going out of style. Every jacket and pair of pants he wore was covered in them) and shoved it in the keyhole.

"See how the keyholes are upside down? That's an old tradition from the U.S. It's supposed to keep out witches and hostile spirits. The old owners of this house, Mr. and Mrs. Edelstine, had all of the keyholes in the house flipped when a man from America visited." Alexander said, pushing the door open. Elizabeta nodded and followed him inside of the manor.

It was absolutely beautiful. The floor was dark mahogany and the ceiling was high with a golden antique chandelier. The stairs ran down the center of the room were draped with a navy blue rug covered in golden embroidery.

Alexander pulled a flashlight from another pocket.

"The house has been restored to how was a hundred years ago, so there's not electricity. There are fires places in every room though, so the winters without heaters shouldn't be too bad." He said, leading her through one of the many doors in to a very large room that was taken up almost entirely by a dining table.

"The house burned down about a hundred years ago during a dinner party, killing every single guest present. The few people who have lived here after that fire say that it's haunted. They hear whispering in the night, the sounds of people eating in the dining room, and seen people ballroom dancing out of the corners of their eyes." Alexander cleared his throat.

"This, as you can see, is the dining room, or at least the largest one. There are two other smaller ones on the second floor." He tapped the table. "And all of the furniture is brand new and comes with the house."

Elizabeta nodded, slowly running her hands over the table. It looked elegant, but old, with slight scratches and dents, most likely from heavy silverware.

"Brand new? Are you sure?" She asked fingering one of the deeper scratches. Alexander nodded.

He continued to lead her around the house, pointing out interesting features and the stories that went with them.

"This room," He said, ushering Elizabeta inside a large room, "Is where the youngest Eddlstine, Roderich lived."

The floor was mostly covered with a beautiful purple rug with gold and green designs. It matched the drapes and the bed spread. The bed sat in the middle of the room with a large cherry wood desk besides it. The dresser was covered in mirrors and sat directly in front of the bed. The rest of the room was filled with bookshelves filled with music books.

"The fire actually started on his birthday. Supposedly his was a very lonely man who loved a close friend of his, Léna. He went mad when Léna rejected him and set fire to his beloved piano, which soon destroyed the entire house. People say you can hear his sobs and screams echoing down this hallway. There have been multiple cases of people leaving this room with burn marks on their hands, and the piano downstairs is said to suddenly start playing on its own." Alexander said, plopping down on the ornate iron bed.

"At least thirteen people died in the fire. Roderich, of course, Léna, Léna's sister Lili, Mr. Eddlstine, Mrs. Eddelsine, Gilbert Eddlstine (He was really Roderich's cousin, but the family gladly excepted him and his brother into the family), Gilbert's brother Ludwig, Ludwig's wife Felica Vargas, her brother Lovino, Lovino's Grandfather, and Francis Bonnefoy and Antonio Fernandez Carriedo who were both family friends." Alexander counted the names off on his fingers.

Elizabeta yawned. Sure, the house was interesting, but she was _tired_. She could care less if Alexander got mad because she wasn't listening. She closed her eyes and began to drift off, only to have Alexander flick her on the forehead.

"Stay with me. The faster I show you that house the faster I can go home."

Elizabeta glared at him. "Why did you stay up all night looking for some stupid house anyway? Do you really care that much?" She asked, stifling another yawn.

"No, of course not. You're boring and stupid and I try to avoid work. I just couldn't sleep and thought 'Hey, if I find a house now it means I can spend less time looking at your ugly mug!'" Alexander gave her a lopsided grin, daring her to take the bait.

Elizabeta took it.

"You bastard! I'm _not_ugly!"

Alexander laughed. "Right sorry, calling you ugly is an insult to ugly people. You look more like the inside of a vagina."

Elizabeta crossed her arms. "You look like your face was burned by stomach acid."

"Your face _is _stomach acid."

"Man whore!"

"Bitch."

"Douche bag."

"Cunt." Elizabeta scoffed and yanked the door of the room open.

"Just show me the damn master bedroom and leave!"

Alexander rolled his eyes and marched out the door. Elizabeta followed him to a large black door.

"The master bedroom is right in here. It is very, very nice, and is right next to a bathroom. Can I go home now? It's late."

Elizabeta sighed and nodded. "I really like this place. You did well for once. Bring the papers by here tomorrow and I'll fill them in."

Alexander's eyes widened. "Seriously? You're gonna buy it?" Elizabeta nodded, reminding herself that Alexander was an idiot as he tried his hardest not to skip down the hall.

_( )_

Elizabeta plopped down on a chair in the master dining room. She pulled out her cell phone and called up a pizza place, requesting a large onion, garlic, and bell pepper pizza.

Sighing, she rested her forehead on the table and closed her eyes.

CLICK

CLINK

SCRAP

Elizabeta's head shot up. Strange, she could have sworn she just heard something. 'Oh well, it was probably nothing' she thought. Elizabeta slouched further down in her chair and closed her eyes.

CLINK

CLANK

SCRAP

Okay, she was positive she heard something that time. Elizabeta listened carefully, and sure enough she could hear the sounds of silverware on china. High pitched whispering joined in with the sound. It started growing louder and louder, yet Elizabeta still couldn't make out a word until someone screamed: "You're in my seat!"

Elizabeta jumped up and scrambled upstairs, heart pounding.

_( )_

Other than the one once incident with the dining room, Elizabeta didn't have any other problems with the house.

Well, other that the fact that something was following her. She hadn't seen what it was, but she could feel it's eyes boring into. Occasionally, something would brush past her or whisper something in her ear that she couldn't make out. Elizabeta just ignored it. She asked for a haunted house and she got one. No problem there.

She soon bought the house and started living in it. Elizabeta loved every minute of it. Sure, the laughter that floated through the rooms could be creepy and the screams in the middle of the night could be unnerving, but Elizabeta couldn't help but love her house.

Months passes and Elizabeta quickly got used to the creepy sounds her house would make at night. Still, she could tell something was off.

The following had gotten worse. Elizabeta would wake up with something sitting by her head on the bed. Innocent whispering became not so innocent.

_"Beautiful, exquisite, magnificent..."_

Elizabeta hated hearing that whispering. Then, after the whispering, came the touching. Sometimes something would grab her hand or kiss her check in the hall, or caress her face in the dining room. It would run its hands over her stomach while she was getting dressed, cover her back in kisses and start its horrible whispering again.

Elizabeta would wake up with her hair brushed and braided, the pillow beside her cold as ice. One day she woke up and glanced at the mirror by her bed, only to see the thing lying next to her!

It was a man, whose skin was the color of milk and hair as black as coal. His eyes were an unnatural shade of indigo and had a sort of crazed light to them. He wore thin glasses and a puzzled expression, as if he wasn't sure whether he could be happy or angry.

Elizabeta screamed louder than she thought possible

_( )_

Elizabeta had no idea what to do. She wanted to call a medium, but her pride wouldn't let her. She wanted a haunted house, so why was she upset?

Elizabeta decided that she would just ignore the ghost, in hopes that it would leave her alone.

It didn't. The ghost would play music for her one the piano, leaving the ivory key coated with ash. It left flowers on her bedside table and spent every night with its freezing arms wrapped around her. It was driving Elizabeta insane.

She hated the ghost, hated how cold it was, how it was always touching her, always whispering in her ears.

She wanted it gone, and she wanted it gone fast.

Elizabeta did everything she could remember to ward off ghosts. She covered her floors with sea salt, filled her bed with sand and spices, placed crucifixes in every room, but the ghost still came back.

Elizabeta couldn't take it anymore. She wouldn't! She would find a way to rid herself of the ghost even if she died trying!

_( )_

It was perfect. The floors were covered with whiskey and paper ripped from books. Every door was locked, and only Elizabeta had the key. Part of her felt like this was the wrong thing to do, that her fear was clouding her judgment, but she didn't care anymore. She needed to rid herself of this house and its residents.

She tossed the lit match on the floor and watched, mesmerized, as it devoured the wooden floors, spreading to the walls and furniture. Perfect, it wasn't burning too fast, nor too slow. She ran towards the front door and forced it open. But before she could step outside, something slammed the door shut and pushed her back into the front room.

"No!" She cried, trying to fight against the ghost, "Let me go! Let me go!" She clawed at the air, screaming as the flames started to lick her skin.

The pain was unbearable, like a hundred needles ripping through her, but all Elizabeta could do was scream until her vocal cords gave out. Suddenly, a face was leaning over her, the same handsome face she had seen in the mirror. 'How funny,' she thought, 'that the same force that killed him would destroy me as well,' and relaxed, accepting the flames and closing her eyes.


	2. Cold

**Happy Halloween! So this time the prompt was cold. I as so, so sorry if there are grammar or spelling mistakes, I types this one on my phone so there was no spell check (spell check is an amazing thing!). Hope you like this!**

**Warning: Character Death, gore**

**Disclaimer: if I owned Hetalia, this wouldn't be a fan fiction, would it?**

To whoever finds this,

By the time you've finished reading this letter, I'll be dead. As much as I hate to use such an over used saying, there is really no other way I could think to put it.

My name is Yao Wang. In few days, you'll probably know me as one of the two boys that disappeared while camping in the Michael Davis State Park (I'm the handsome one, by the way. The one with the big nose and long arms is Ivan).

None of this was supposed to happen. It was just supposed to be a fun camping trip in the mountains.

Let me start from the beginning.

We set out on January fourth for the Michael Davis State Park. Ivan had asked me to come camping with him for what ever reason, and I happily agreed. My cousin Yong Soo was coming over, and I wanted to avoid him as much as possible. Part of me is rather glad that Ivan chose a beautiful park like MDSP. I've always said that I wanted to be surrounded by beauty when I died. Of course, my family's old house in the Chines country side was more of what I had in mind, but that's beside the point.

We drove for a good three and a half hours before we reached our cabin, and by the time Ivan and I had moved all of the bags inside, it was snowing hard. We kicked off our shoes and peeled out of our heavy coats, collapsing in front of the fire with a sigh. Ivan still had his scarf rapped around his neck as he stuck his toes right next to the fire and rubbed his hands together.

Now that I think about it, Ivan must have been pretty upset to want to leave his neighborhood in the middle of January. He hated the cold more than anything. Ever since he was little he had said that he wanted to move somewhere warm and sunny when he had enough money. He never got along well with his stepfather, and would spend most of his time at my house or with his friend Toris.

I wonder what they argued about this time... I hope you read this Erik and realize that you killed your stepson. You made him come here. You killed the both of us. This is all your fault.

While Ivan was warming up, I checked out the cabin. It was a nice cabin, small but cozy. It had three rooms, a bedroom that took up most of the cabin, a tiny kitchen, and a bathroom the size of a broom closet. Alright, small is a bit of an understatement.

Anyway, I pulled out the small radio Ivan had packed from the suitcase and placed it on the table in between the twin beds. The emergency/first aid kit was placed next to it, followed with candles, a lighter, and a pack of cards.

Ivan decided that his toes were warm enough and hopped on the bed. He snatched up the pack of cards and whipped the cards out of the box.

"Let's play something." He said, shuffling the cards. Ivan was a natural at cards. He could do some of the most bazaar card tricks I have ever seen, build a card tower that actually stands, and was brilliant at poker. (I'm burning those cards right now. I ran out of fire wood a while ago and I would rather burn them then risk going outside)

Ivan dealt the cards for blackjack.

"I'll be dealer." He said, a big creepy grin on his face. He placed two cards face down in front of me and two cards face down in front of him. I looked at my cards. An ace and a nine. Jackpot!

Ivan glanced at his cards.

"I'm standing, you?" He asked, still smiling.

"I'll stand." We both flipped. Ivan had an ace and a ten, beating me by one point. Ivan dealt again. And again. And again.

"How are you so good at this game?" I demanded, crossing my arms. "Your cheating somehow, I know it. Lets play something else."

So we did. We played War, Go Fish, and Old Maid. I lost every time. Just as Ivan was dealing out the cars for another game of War, someone knocked on the door.

Ivan dropped the car and walked to the door. He glanced out the peephole.

"Who is it?" I asked. Ivan shrugged.

"Some little girl. Looks like she's been crying." He looked again. "She doesn't have any shoes on! There's a lest five inches of snow out there! Is she crazy?"

He quickly undid the lock on the door and threw it open.

It was a girl. She looked about ten years old and was a thin as a pole, with board straight wheat colored hair. Her eyes where dark blue and wide, staring straight at Ivan but not really seeing. Her feet were bare and she was dressed in ragged ripped clothing.

"I'm so hungry," she moaned in a think Belarusian accent. "Feed me..." Then, she lunged at Ivan, sinking her teeth into Ivan's arm. Ivan screamed and tried to get her off of him, but she clung onto him like a life line. Finally, we managed to pry her off and shove her out the door, slamming it shut before she could try to come back inside.

I locked the door and grabbed the first aid kit. Ivan sat on the floor and I slowly rolled up his sleeve, staring at the bites in confusion. They weren't human, they were long, deep and jagged, as if someone had scraped a serrated knife against Ivan's forearm.

"You see those bite marks too?" He asked, looking pale. I nodded, suddenly very glad my mother had signed me up for First Aid classes last summer.

I ran to the kitchen and grabbed a towel, placing it on the bite and pressing down until the bleeding stopped. Then, I slowly dabbed the bite with peroxide. Ivan winced the first time the towel touched the cut and looked away. Ivan never liked looking at blood, whether it was his or someone else's. We could both hear the girl clearly over the sound of the howling winds outside as I bandaged up Ivan's arm. She pounded on the door, calling out pitifully: "Let me in, let me in, I'm hungry!"

I put away the first aid kit and sat in front of the fire next to Ivan. Finally, he stood up.

"I'm going to see if she is still outside." He said. I tugged on his sleeve.

"Ivan, that girl was crazy lets just-"

"It's okay Yao, I can't hear her anymore." He walked up to the door and looked through the peephole.

While Ivan looked through the peephole, I glanced at the window across the room. I had seen something move out of the corner of my eye. Suddenly something hit the window hard. It backed up and ran at the window again and again. I couldn't believe that the window had stayed in one piece!

The thing rammed against the window one latest time, only this time, it sunk it's teeth into the glass as easy as if it were butter. It was the girl. Her mouth seemed huge, opened far wider than any normal human, with long shark like teeth. I screamed and snatched my phone off the bed, quickly dialing 911.

The only sound on the line was static. The snow storm was interfering with the signal. Ivan stared at the girl though the window.

"There is no way that's human." He whispered

"Really? I didn't notice!" I hissed, dialing 911 again. "Now we're stuck here with that thing outside!"

The thing let go of the glass. It's eyes filled with crocodile tears as it began to scream and kick, lashing out at the house. "I'm HUNGRY!"

It smashed it's hand on the glass so hard that it's enter hand was crushed. The monster didn't even bleed. It didn't seem to feel any pain and it dug it's fingernails into the destroyed hand and slowly ripped off the skin, reveling what looked like the outline of a hand that had been scribbled on. The new skin was black and translucent, almost glowing. The thing popped the old skin into it't mouth and ate it, not minding the fact that it's real arm was now exposed. "Still hungry."

It circled the house, knocking on the wood singing 'still hungry' to the tune of Ring Around The Rosy. The sun soon went down and but me and Ivan were far from tired. We sat in the center of the cabin, listening to its horrible singing.

The singing stopped around dawn. Ivan stood up and stretched.

"I think It's gone."

"No, It's still there Ivan. Don't go outside."

"There is a pile of extra firewood right outside the door. We're running low. I'll check the peephole, pop out, grab it, then pop back in."

"No." I said, grabbing his arm. "It's too dangerous."

Ivan glanced out the peephole.

"See? No one there." I looked. There was empty snow covered fields as far as the eye could see, with no monster in site. "It's still risky." I said.

"I'll be fine." Ivan insisted as he unlocked the door and stepped outside, closing it behind him. I looked through the peephole, watching him.

The monster didn't even let him reach the firewood. It jumped from the roof and landed on Ivan's broad shoulders. It sunk it's teeth into his chest and ripped out a chunk of his flesh. the monster swallowed it whole and licked its lips, using its fingers to make the hole in Ivan's chest wider. I stood at the peephole, too terrified to move.

The thing's long delicate fingers dipped into the hole and pulled out Ivan's heart. It sunk its teeth into the soft organ, quickly devouring it. It reached in again and pulled out his intestines, slurping them up like sausage. It continued to eat Ivan's insides, pulling out Ivan's bones and crushing them into dust with its powerful jaw. The creature was a messy eater, smearing blood and guts all over what was left off it's clothes. It placed it's head in Ivan's chest and happily lapped up Ivan's blood and body fluids, until Ivan was completely empty. Then the creature did something you only see in horror movies.

It shed it's skin. Slowly, starting with the feet, it pulled on the skin until it snapped and yanked it over its head, reviling a formless black mass. It picked up Ivan's body and slid into the hole, until its entire body was in Ivan. When the monster moved, Ivan moved. I've never seen something more horrifying or disgusting in my life.

Monster-Ivan knocked on the door, begging me to let him in. He's knocking still and I know that soon enough he'll break down that door and devour me.

So, by the time you read this, I will have become lunch. I'm so sorry you chose this place to camp. Run, run as fast as you can and drive as far as possible. Then maybe you can survive the monster.

I just wish I could have survived it too.

Sincerely,

Yao Wang


	3. Blood

**DisclamerDisc planer: I don't own Hetalia :c**

**Warning: violence, character death, yuri**

Francine hated the rain. She hated the clouds, she hated the mist, and most of all, she hated London.

The list of all the things she hated grew and grew as she pushed through the crowded streets. The sky was grey and bleak, with clouds fat with rain.

'I hate the people! I hate their stiff upper lips, their stupid accents, and their disgusting food! I hate, hate, HATE England!'

Francine hadn't even wanted to come to London. She would of happily spent all of eternity in her home in France, but thanks to some of the nosy children next door, Francine had been forced to move to England in hopes of escaping her terrified neighbors' torches and stakes.

They had called her a monster, a blood sucker, a vampire, a murderer. Of course, Francine's favorite name was the one she had given herself- The Black Widow, a deadly and elegant arachnid that sucked it's mates dry. She liked it because of how truthful it was. Francine wouldn't eat just anybody. No, she liked to befriend her dinner, it made them taste sweeter.

Francine was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't notice the man in front of her until their foreheads collided.

"Very sorry Miss, I didn't see you there." He said, looking Francine straight in the eyes. That was a surprise to say the least. Normally a man couldn't look past her curvy figure and large chest.

"Are you alright?" Over the years Francine had come to love this question. It didn't matter whether or not she answered yes or no, as long as she worded her answer well she could easily start a conversation. Conversation then lead to more conversations, than friendship, and a good fresh meal.

"N-no, I feel a little dizzy." She lied, stumbling back for extra effect. The man grabbed her arm and laid a hand on her back to support her.

"I'm sorry, I should have been watching where I was going! Here, there is a restaurant down the street. Would you like to rest there?" Francine nodded. The man took her hand and led her down the street. He was handsome, with dirty blonde hair and emerald colored eyes. His eyebrows were enormous, yet he managed to make them look quite regal.

The man opened the door of the restaurant for her and asked the waiter for a table for two. They sat down and the man ordered her a glass of water.

"I'm Francine. What's your name?"

"Arthur. It's a pleasure to meet you, Francine." Arthur said.

I'm sorry about bumping into you, I wasn't paying attention." He said. Francine decided that she liked how Arthur actually looked at her when he was talk to her.

"There's no need to apologies so much Arthur. I wasn't watching where I was going, so it's just as much my fault as yours." She said, taking a sip of her water.

"So why was your head in the clouds?" Francine asked. Arthur shifted in his seat.

"That's quite a... private question. I would rather we get more acquainted first." He said.

"Alright then, lets get more acquainted. My name is Francine Bonnefoy, I was born in Paris, France, but my family moved to the countryside soon after. I'm 24, both my Mother, Papa, and brother are dead. I only recently moved to London." Of course, Francine was lying, but Arthur would think she was crazy if she told him the truth.

"What about you?" Arthur sighed.

"My name is Arthur Henry Kirkland, I was born in York, but my Mum and Dad moved to London when I was four. I have five brothers, four of them are older than me. Allaster (the oldest) died a couple of years ago. He didn't like me. The twins, Breandan and Collin, also don't like me, but Collin hates me more than any of them, then there's Robert, who is a bit nicer than the rest, but not by much. And Alfred, but I don't like to talk about him." If Arthur had looked uncomfortable when he first started talking, he looked twice as upset now. Francine patted his arm.

"I think you are very nice Arthur, I don't know why anyone would dislike you." She said.

"No, you haven't heard of the things I've done to them." He mumbled.

"But family is so important! What could you do that was so horrible that they could forget that?"

"I don't like to talk about it." Francine sighed.

"Okay then. Food. What about your favorite food?" She asked.

"I like meat pies." Arthur said. He ran his fingers through his hair. "And scones, scones are good."

Francine laughed. "The disgusting excuses for pastries you see everywhere?" Arthur darkened.

"Scones happen to be far from disgusting, thank you very much." He said.

"They taste like buttered rocks!"

Francine and Arthur continued to talk for hours, their civil, polite conversations slowly turning more personal and opinionated. Arthur told Francine about his trip to France and how he thought England was better in every way. Francine told him about how much she missed France and disliked London. The kept talking until the sun went down.

"It's rather late, isn't it? Would you like me to wait with you until can hail a cab?" Arthur asked, pulling his jacket back on.

"No thank you, I don't live too far from here, I can walk." Arthur nodded.

"Be safe."

"You too." As soon as Arthur was out of sight, Francine ran behind the restaurant and took a deep breath. Even after centuries of changing forms she still wasn't comfortable with it. Francine closed her eyes, eyebrows furrowed in discomfort as her arms stretched and shrunk. Her noise curved and her legs popped as she became shorter, lighter, and far more hairy. When Francine opened her eyes she was flying over London in the shape of a bat.

_( )_

Francine sat on a small chair in her basement. Two people were tied to chairs next to her. One was tan, with long caramel colored curls and laugh lines under his eyes. It was obvious that he had been dead awhile: chunks of skin were missing from his face, his flesh had mostly decayed, and he smelled horrible. The other was not as ripe. Her hair was silver and her skin was as white as snow. Her red eyes were wide open, staring but not seeing. She smelled, but hasn't decayed as much as the first man.

Francine ran her fingers through the tan man's hair.

"Aren't you glad we're friends, Antonio? I am. Its just you, me, and Gillian, together forever. Isn't that great?" She jerked his head up and down.

"I know! It's wonderful." She sighed.

"I met a man named Arthur today. His eyebrows were the size of caterpillars! He likes scones, though I can't see why..." She tugged on Antonio's coat and straightened his tie.

"Don't worry. I won't let Arthur replace you. You're my favorite!" She smiled and leaned on the white haired girl's shoulder.

"And you too, Gil. I love you too. You're such a good friend!"

She stood up and walked to the door of the basement. Francine blew a kiss at the two dead bodies, opened the door, and walked back into her house.

_( )_

It wasn't hard for Francine to find Arthur's home. After all, she had years of experience when it came to tracking people. All she had to do was follow her nose. Sometimes it was easier said than done, like the one man from Scotland she had met a couple of years ago. His scent had been too weak to track, meaning Francine had to waste her time actually finding her prey after meeting him. Then there were people like Antonio and Gilbert. Their scents were so strong that she could smell them from across the city. Francine wasn't sure what exactly made some morals smell better than others, but she had a feeling that it was blood type. The stronger the scent, the sweeter the blood.

Arthur smelt like roses, tea, and sea spray. His scent was strong, stronger than anything Francine had ever tracked. It made her head hurt it was so strong.

Francine knocked on Arthur's front door, a plate full of cookie balenced on her arm. No one answered the door and for a second, Francine was scared that she might have gone to the wrong house. Finally, Arthur answered the door.

"Francine?"

Francine faked a look of surprise.

"Arthur! I didn't know you lived here! I was baking some cookies, and I had some extra, so I was going to see if anyone on this street wanted some."

"Oh, I see. Sorry to disappoint, I'm whipping up some lunch and should probably get back in the kitchen." He said, closing the door.

"You're cooking? Could I help? I was pretty famous for my cooking back in France."

Arthur though for a second, then said: "I don't see why not" and led her to the kitchen.

Francine wasn't sure what Arthur was cooking, but she knew it hazardous to everyone in a ten mile radius' health.

"What is this?" She asked, pointing to a boiling pot filled with diced eels. Arthur dropped a lemon in the pot.

"I'm making jellied eel and black pudding*. Would you pass me some nutmeg?" Francine handed him a glass jar full of nutmeg powder. Arthur poured a good half of the nutmeg in the pot and started stirring it.

"It's almost done, all we have to do now is let it solidify. Can you put the sausage in a pan?" He said with a smile. Francine picked up the pan and placed it on the stove. She picked up a bottle of olive oil, only to have Arthur snatch the oil out of her hand and replace it with fish oil.

"It help's with the taste." He said. Francine bit back her comment on how salty it would make the sausage and poured the oil in the pan.

_( )_

Francine and Arthur soon started seeing each other everyday. At first Francine wasn't sure whether or not she liked Arthur. The Brit was annoying and childish, with a large ego. But the more she spent time with Arthur, the more she realised than she might think of him as something other than food.

Francine had never had much luck when it came to love. Long ago, in the 1600's when she was still a little girl, she fell for another woman, who was far, far older than she was. Or course, that didnt end well. As Francine got older, she grew more and more frustrated. It seemed like every man she fell for didn't really care about her and if she ever told a woman how she felt about her, she could be killed*. Still, Francine had happily given her friends love advice and played matchmaker multiple times.

Then everything changed when she was bitten. Being in a relationship just felt... wrong. She couldn't stand seeing other people with their spouses. It was so unfair! She moved into the countryside, where her only neighbors were kind, polite people who assumed that the people who suddenly disappeared were killed by wolves. That was until three children snuck into her house one night, just in time to see Francine drain one of her victims.

Francine fled France and traveled to England. That was where she met Antonio, and for the first time in centuries, fell in love. When Francine told him about her 'problem' Antonio had rejected her. Unable to imagine life without him, Francine had devoured Antonio right then and there so that the two of them could be together forever. Then, after Antonio, came Gillian who seemed to understand how unfair the world was. Francine couldn't help but love the self-centered, but lonely Prussian. Gillian had reacted better than Antonio when she found out about Francine's secret. Francine was so happy that Gillian had accepted her, but one night at home she just couldn't control her hunger. She had cradled Gillian's dead body all night, wallowing in grief and guilt.  
After Gillian's death, Francine had promised that she would never fall in love again. She knew that every hour that she let Arthur live, he was creeping closer to that forbidden place in her heart. She wouldn't let him reach it.

_( )_

Arthur knocked on Francine's. He had promised to come over for dinner, though he hated nothing more than French cooking. Almost as soon as his knuckles brushed over the door, it was yanked open. Francine grabbed him by his tie and yanked him into her house. She slammed the door shut and mashed her lips onto his. Arthur shoved her off of him but Francine was far stronger than he was. How could such a sweet women be so strong?

She pushed him against the door and smother his face in kisses. Before Arthur could even try to push her off of him again, Francine sunk her teeth into the side of his neck. As soon as her teeth pierced his neck he sunk to his knees, ears ringing. His head was on fire and his eyesight was slowly fading. Had she poisoned him? Francine kissed him again and tilted her head to deepen the she pulled away and started to nuzzle his neck.

"Arthur, mon amour, je suis si désolé*." She whispered before biting his neck again. Arthur couldn't even scream as his vision faded to nothing and everything went numb.

**I didn't update Friday or Saturday (my Grandpa was just diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer, so my weekend was pretty busy) so I promise I'll update two more chapters today. The theme was blood and I apologise if Fem!France isn't in character, I've never written her before.**

**Thank you Mr or Mrs. Ninja for your review, I really appreciate it! I absolutely love constructive criticism.**

*** Despite the name, black pudding is not pudding, it's blood sausage.  
*During 16th century France, women in a same sex relationships were executed. Men in same sex relationships had their members cut off, and if they where seen again with another man, executed.  
* The French translates to: Arthur, my love, I'm so sorry.**


	4. Wolf

**Disclaimer: None of this is mine :c  
Warning: Gore, Character death, Twilight and 50 Shades of Gray**

The monster was seven feet tall at least. It crouched on it's hind legs, back hunched, long arms dragging on the ground like some kind of deformed ape. The skin was stretched so tight over it's bones that you could count every single rib. It's face was wolflike and its teeth were as long as finger bones. It's body was covered in thick, matted fur the color of wheat. The monster threw it's head back at howled at the full moon.  
_( )_

Alexander woke with a start, breathing heavily. He lay on the floor, just a few feet away from his bed. His clothes were torn, his hair was tangled, and he was covered in leaves. He'd been sleep walking again. Great, just great.

Alexander glanced out his bedroom window. The sun was just above the horizon. Well, he was awake now, so he might as well get up. He stood up and stretched. Outside a dog howled. Alexander shuddered, remembering the dream he had just had. There had been a wolf in it. It had mauled a couple in the park, stripping their bones in a matter of minutes.

He had always dreamed about that damn wolf, ever since he was a kid. The nightmares would start near the end of the month, and get worse and worse the closer it got the full moon. Alexander had no idea why.

Alexander pulled off his torn shirt and grabbed a random T-shirt from the top of his dresser. He yawned and yanked open the door. Alexander stumbled down the stairs, into the kitchen. He pulled a box of Trix out of the pantry and slid into a seat at the table. Alexander picked up one of the many books stacked on the table.

There were always books cluttering up the small apartment Alexander shared with his friend Marko. Both boys shared a passion for books. Over the years, the dining table had become anything but a place to eat. Why eat there when you can cover it with books?

Alexander glanced at the cover and grimaced. Twilight? Really Marko? Why bother wasting money on cheesy vampier love stories when we have the collector's edition of Dracula upstairs?

Alexander sighed and opened the book. It wasn't like he /wanted/ to read Twilight, he was just too lazy to pick up another book.

Alexander dropped the book on the table as soon as he heard Marko shuffling down the stairs.

Marko groaned as he walked into the kitchen and covered his face with his arms.

"Do you really had to turn /all/ of the lights on?" He mumbled, plopping into a chair.

Alexander had leaned to ignore Marko by now. Marko was a complainer, he always had been and always would be. They both knew why Alexander turned on every light downstairs, it made it easier to forget his nightmares and calm down.

Alexander nodded, pulled a handful of Trix out of the box and stuffed it in his mouth. Marko rolled his eyes and snatched the cereal box out of his hands.

"Hey!"

"I bought it, I get to eat it." He said with a smirk. Alexander glared at him.

"Give me my Trix."

"No silly rabbit, Trix are for kids!"

"Says the man who bought Breaking Dawn just to read about Edward and Bella doin' it." Alexander said.

"And yet you're the one with 50 Shades of Gray under his bed." Marko snickered.

"How did you..." Alexander could feel his face growing red.

"You need to find a better place to hide your porn, Alex.

_( )_

Alexander was dreaming about the wolf again, only this time he didn't watch the wolf, he was the wolf. He stood in a dark hallway, looming over a dark haired human,who lay on the floor, paralyzed in fear. The human was covered in scratches and cuts, all of which oozed fresh blood.

Alexander took a deep breath through his nose. The metallic smell of blood made his heart race. He wanted to run, jump, and rip the tiny human underneath him to shreds. He grabbed the human's arm and lifted it up like it weighed no more than a doll.

"A-Alex please..." It whimpered, it's large green eyes filed with tears.

Alexander flung it across the room, the sickening crack of broken bones sounding as sweet as honey to him. The human groaned. He grabbed it's arm again, only this time, the arm came clean of of its body.

Alexander groawled. This prey was boring, it didn't fight back. Alexander wanted the thrill of the chase and the satisfaction of catching his meal. He stuffed the arm in his mouth and easily snapped the human's neck him his large clawed hands. He slung the dead body over his shoulder and decided to find somewhere quiet to eat it.

_( )_

When Alexander woke up, he was lying in an abandoned were house. He was still shaking from the dream he had just had. In the dream, he had ripped Marko limb from limb and ate him! With a sigh Alexander wrapped his arms around himself and started to look for his apartment.

When he reached his apartment, the place was crawling with police. Apparently someone had heard suspious noises last night and called the cops.

A police held out his hand when Alexander tried to enter his house.

"Sorry sir, we can't let you in here."

"I live here."

" Welll in that case, we would like to ask you a few questions.

_( )_

Alexander watched the three kids slowly drove around the corner, music blasting out of their small car speakers. They were such idiots.

Alexander leaped onto the good of the car. The kids screamed and hit the gas, trying to shake Alexander off the roof.

Alexander dug his claws into the hood and easily ripped it off. One of the kids pulled the car over and scrambled out, followed by the other two. Alexander grabbed a boy by the leg and yanked the limb off. The boy tried to keep running, though he quickly collapsed. Stood over him and grabbed him by the shirt. Just as he was about to bite the kid's face off a jolt of pain shot up his back. Alexander stumbled back, howling pitifully as the excruciating pain traveled to every section of his body. Alexander shrank back into his normal size. Suddenly a new pain was blooming in his chest. The boy had a gun on him. He had shot Alexander. Alexander tried tell his brain, but his brain was too sluggish. He took a few steps backward before collapsing, eyes clenched shut in pain. Alexander let out one last howl, cursing wolves and the moon.

**Sorry it's so rushed, I swear Tuesday's will be betters :/**


	5. Grave

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the clothes on my back.**

**Warning: Character death,mentions of child abuse, and suicide.**

Katyusha smiled as she flipped through her papers. She had a new client today, eleven year old Lili Zwingli. Her file had been depressing, but sadly, most of the files Katyusha read were. Still, she tried to keep looking bright side. Katyusha would be able to help the sweet sounding girl, and hopefully make a new friend.

Katyusha found it hard to keep smiling as her mind drifted to her last client, a stubborn teenage girl from Monaco. She had been emotionally abused by her mother for years. Finally, a neighbor found out and called the CPS. Even after being adopted by a caring, loving family the girl could bring herself to trust them. She was prone to violent outbursts that were a harm to herself and others. Her new parents signed her up for therapy in hopes of teaching her how to trust again. Katyusha grew to love the girl like a child. She normally wasn't one to choose favorites, but meeting with the teen quickly became the highlight of her day. Katyusha had been crushed when the girl's parents called her one morning and told her that the girl had been found dead in her bed, an empty bottle of sleeping pills on the floor.

Katyuaha glanced at the clock. 3:45, almost time for Lili's appointment. She tried to pretend that she wasn't nervous.

Lili was one of the youngest clients Katyusha had ever had. She normaly worked with teens and young adults. Katyuaha hoped that she was just as good with kids as when she was younger. She picked Lili's file up off of her desk and skimmed over it for the tenth time that day.

Every time she read it, her heart sank a little. She didn't want to believe that someone could treat such a small child so heartlessly, but she knew it was true. Lili's mother, Léna Zwingli, had died in child birth. Her father, Patrick, had been a vile, violent man. He constantly beat his daughter, and if not for Lili's older brother Vash, Lili would have died years ago. Vash protected her the best he could, even when it ment putting his life in danger. One night, while Patrick Zwingli boss was over for dinner, Lili broke a clay teapot upstairs. She had been playing tea party with Vash and the teapot slipped from her fingers. Patrick ran upstairs, yelling about how useless and stupid Lili was. The boss followed him up the stairs and watched as Patrick grabbed a toy baseball bat from underneath Lili's bed and started to hit her with it. Vash tried to pull the bat out of his father's hands. Patrick hit him on the his with the bat, killing him instantly. The boss called the police, who bairly managed to save Lili. After that, Lili stopped taking. She only spoke when conpleatly nesisary and hated being touched. She would seem happy one moment and be throwing a tantrum and crying the next.

Katyuaha jumped out of her seat when Bella opened the door and lead two people into her room. One was a tall middle aged woman, with gray hair and deep blue eyes. She stood next to a short, blonde haired girl. The girl's eyes were dark green and her hair was short and dull. If it wasn't for the long purple ribbon in the girls hair, Katyusha may have mistaken her for a boy. She smiled and gestured to the seat next to her.

"Come take a seat! I'm Miss Katyusha, but you can call me Kat if you like. Your Lili, right?" Katyusha said, offering Lili her hand. Lili didn't answer.

"And your...?" She said to the gray haired woman. "

"Ms. Łundquist from the care home."

Its nice to meet you Ms. Łundquist! So, Lili, how has your day been so far?" Lili just stared at her. It was going to be a long session.

_( )_

Lili began opening up to Karyusha far faster than she had expected her to. Soon both girls were very close, and Lili was even starting to talk in full sentinces. She was still uncomfortable with strangers, but let people she knew touch her. Her temper had become more controllable as well.

One day Lili asked Katyusha if she would like to go to a picnic in the park with her. Katyusha thought it was a wonderful idea. Wouldn't it be nice to get out of her stuffy office for once?

She left the office around eleven and sat at the park bench where Lili had told her to sit. A man with long blonde hair and piercing green eyes sat next to her. He was reading a hunters guid book and kept glancing around him, as if he was waiting for someone.

Katyusha had just gotten out her knitting when the man brushed against her. He turned and looked at her.

"You better take good care of her." He hissed.

"Excuse me?" Katyusha said.

"I said you better take good care of her. If you don't, you can bet you won't have a head pretty soon." He glared at her and turned a page of his book.

"She really enjoys spending time with you, you know that right? She talked about you all the time when she visits me."

"Who?"

"Lili. And I promise, if she tells me about you mistreating her durning our tea party tonight..." He slid a finger over his neck. "I'm watching you missy."

"Kat!" Katyusha turned around. Lili was skipping towards her, hdoling a picnic basket.

Katyusha turned back to the man next to her only to realize that w was gone.

"You ready Kat? We need to hurry, I'm going to a tea party later."

"Tea party?" Katyusha asked.

Lili nodded. "Me and Vash have tea parties every Thirsday."

Katyusha blood ran cold as she watched Lili pull sandwitchs out of the basket.

"If she tells me about you miss treating her during out tea party tonight..."

No, there was no way that had been the host of Lili's brother. Still, he had looked like her... Katyusha shook the idea out of her head and took a large bite of her sandwich

**It's short, it's boring. Can you tell I wasn't as into this one as the others? I bet you can. The theme is Grave, but there is no actual grave in the story. I'm sorry.**


End file.
